


There are no lions in the snow

by DentedCrow



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: Gen, M/M, Past Abuse, Pre-Canon, Trust, it's about learning how to let others in, self destructive tendencies, strangers to confidants, switches btw niles and leos pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-26
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:07:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27421708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DentedCrow/pseuds/DentedCrow
Summary: From peasant to prince, one statement holds true: The country of Nohr has no room for kindness.When Leo, the youngest prince of the royal family, refuses to take the life of Niles, a common thief, it leaves them both puzzled at what to do next.-(Pre-canon fic about Leo and Niles' first meeting + their somewhat rocky beginnings as retainer and lord pre-Odin.)(Generally tries to stick pretty close to a mix of JP+EN in-game canon)
Relationships: Leon | Leo/Zero | Niles
Kudos: 6





	1. Somebody, nobody, none

**Author's Note:**

> (Note: While the first chapter is only from Leo's PoV, the rest of the story is primarily Niles'. There is a slight (somewhat insignificant) change to Corrin's memories - but as their character isn't all that relevant to this fic it really doesn't matter. Without further ado: Here is my first fic- I hope you'll enjoy it!)
> 
> \-------------

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leo is called to help ensure the capture of as many thieves as possible during a break-in - But a lone thief in an otherwise empty bed chamber takes him longer to handle than expected.

**1**

-Somebody, Nobody, None-

\---

"Circle them at the west wall! Go signal the towers to send out scouts and horsemen!"

"Yes, milord!"

"We want to barricade as many escape points before they-"

"Milord!"

"Speak. Quickly."

"There is one in rightmost of the lower bed chambers!"

His Highness, Prince Leo of Krakenburg, looked in stern surprise at the guard who had run up to him before swiftly turning back to the other:

"Slight change; You will direct orders to the west - I will go visit our ‘guest’. We meet 2 hours from now in the front hall."

"Yes, milord!"  
-

It always rung in echoes against the castle walls when they said that. The dark stonework gave their steps and voices a hollow hum that few other buildings did. With the slight heels that were in fashion amongst the court and royalty, Leo’s own steps clacked loudly and decisively, as he ran through the corridors along the guard.  
“Is he secured?”  
“Yes, milord.”  
“And how many do we have with him?”  
“Three, milord. Five when we arrive.”  
“ _Excellent._ ”  
“Though –“  
There wasn’t time; Leo’s two front guards slammed open the massive wooden doors;

In the room three others stood, gathered around a man huddled on the floor. He was breathing far too rapidly, but said nothing; barely even registering the sound of the doors. Only the guards' collective nodding and small verbal acknowledgements of Lord Leo's arrival made him react; clutching tighter against himself in arrays of irregular quivers. Reportedly there had been others of his kind here, but none of them had stayed behind. Now the thieves were only one. It was a strangely quiet scene to walk into.  
Clearing his throat to signal his desire to pass, Leo went towards the circle and the guards made way for him to go through - silently thanking his lucky stars that he had stayed up late and wasn't in his nightwear yet. A few of the diamond patterned windows had been broken, with both curtain rod and curtains spread across the ornate woven flowers on the carpets. The man didn’t seem to mind whatever glass splinters he was exposing his body to. Nothing about him seemed eager to leave. He simply laid there; soaked in the final seconds of a dull, inaudible laugh, that emanated aimlessly from behind his bone white hair – Lifeless, and scratchy, and grim.  
Standing in silence to hear Prince Leo’s assessment of their unarmed captive, the guards nevertheless kept their weapons prepared, waiting for any signs to act. Pitilessly, like handling a dead animal, one of them rolled the thief onto his side with the tip of their foot and bowed lightly to the prince in offering. This wasn’t what he had thought he would be doing tonight.

Sighing, he began surveying the man:

Judging by the clothes he was, unsurprisingly, of a poorer social class as most thieves were;  
Layers of mismatched linen and hemp, in colours no noble would be caught dead wearing. Some of it had been repaired to the point of being more stitches than fabric – likely by the man himself, considering the unrefined level of craftsmanship. His hands were scarred and mistreated, rough from physical labour, so it would make sense; few thieves came from money, after all. Why waste what little one had on a tailor?

Some thieves came from greater poverty than others, however, and if one knew where to look it showed: Through their hair, and through their body – and through their brittle sense of self-worth, laying itself flat for their desperation to run across. Years of missing care could seemingly never be washed off the soul, no matter how hard one scrubbed.

When Leo looked at him like this, raised well above his eye-level, he felt their distance in more ways than one.

  
More notable than the state of the man’s clothes and hands, however, was the uneven shade forming beneath his brows, bending and twisting from a foreign shape:  
One of his eyes was missing.  
A dark eyepatch covered the empty hole where it had been.

The other one was busy looking into nothing; empty as well, albeit in a different way  
Like it didn’t want reality to exist, but couldn’t keep it out.

It wasn’t shame.

And it wasn’t really fear, it seemed. At least not towards _Leo_.

Most of all it felt like defeat,  
A looming bleakness with an absence of want. No resistance.

If Leo wished for answers, which he rarely _didn't_ _wish for_ , there was no way around it: He had to ask the man.  
As bizarre as that was, to play conversational with a person waiting to be killed, hoping they would play along. If there were more of this man’s kind, outside the castle, or if this was all a ruse, he wanted to know so he could stop it. People gave away knowledge rather freely when they were in this state.

Sending the man a well-rehearsed look of authoritarian indifference Leo laid his opener - blunt and unrelentingly peaceful to the ear:

“Your friends went away without you.”

The man shifted a bit. An unwelcoming line, but nonetheless the truth. No reports had indicated otherwise, and the position of the room left the corridors and the windows as the only possible escape points - the thieves seemingly having gone in through the former and out through the latter, judging by the state of the glass.

  
Leo’s statement hung in the air a little, untouched, before the man replied. With his single, sodden eye locked in thought, he kept his head curled inwards towards himself:

“It seems so.”

The man took a few stammering breaths, trying to the best of his ability to steady them - but failing, giving a singular sniffle and wiping his nose with the back of his hand, clearly on edge at the prospect of having to partake in conversation. His voice had a worn quality to it; A rough, fatalistic matter-of-fact’ness, that only roused Leo’s ill-placed curiosity further - morose and tired in its finality.

“ _Good job_ , though.  
They probably meant for me to bait you away, so you seem to have played _right_ into their pretty little plan. Shouldn’t have come as a surprise to _me,_ though... But I guess I’ve gotten soft.”

He scoffed half-heartedly in sarcastic cheer;

Whatever feeble attempt at a mocking smile that was going on on his face wasn't terribly convincing; though maybe, on better days, it used to be. Right now, however, he couldn’t keep up the pretence; The wet streaks on his cheeks said too much, and his weakened timbre too little - Despite his provocative tone it all fell flat. Although he knew it wouldn’t be welcome, Leo almost felt the need to apologise for how the man had been left by his companions; but needless to say he had had nothing to do with it, and it wouldn't do well to show weakness in front of a captive enemy - let alone his own men.

Running the tip of his shoe over a glass splinter, Leo feigned a lighter mood than he had, mirroring the man.

“… So, knowing that you’re here, yet leaving anyway, I imagine these friends of yours don’t intend on coming back?”

The thief's look darkened–

  
“… Doubt it.”

  
There was a tension in his words that told Leo he didn't like what he said, but couldn't deny it and was past the point of trying. A deep-felt anger drowned out by dejection. For reasons Leo couldn't quite pinpoint - or, perhaps more accurately, preferred not to - it all felt disarmingly familiar. He took a few steps around his uninvited guest; a sober circling stride interrupted by a slight detour of repetitive patterns to think, closing further in on the man until they were no more than an arm's length apart. The resonating sounds were as sharp and controlled in their rhythm as he had placed them in the dim-lit marble room – measured, sonorous, and precise. A carefully curated play. Since childhood everything about him had had to demand respect, whether others deemed it small or not, so the very idea of constantly pursuing it felt so terrifyingly natural to him, that the perfectly human aspect of having a _real_ personality underneath, with _real_ feelings and vulnerabilities, almost made him gag. Whether from fear or repulsion he wasn’t sure.

Leo’s eyes ran over the captive once more, who raised his head ever so slightly in response - lifted his upper body and let it rest against his arm.

They could see each-other better like this; the man’s brown skin was illuminated by the flickering flames that surrounded them, some of the torches held by guards, others by the wall.   
Leo hadn't fully noticed the extent of it until now, but he was beaten and bruised all over. It looked warm and painful under the orange glow above it; Splotches of darkness, scattered in aggressive batches on his body, and a thickened half-coagulated redness collected at the tip of his nose.  
Whoever had been here before the guards came hadn't wanted him to leave. Given what one could infer it seemed downright cruel to inspect it like this, but with the sheer visual intensity of it all looking away felt impossible. When the light fell right, the running blood and the clear droplets in his eyelashes reflected it, trembling along with his pulse.   
It made his eye shine.

"What is your name?"

Leo tried to ignore what he saw.

"Niles."  
_Irrelevant. But he felt like he should know._

The man still refused to meet his eyes.  
Returning the favour Leo continued his interrogation with the same understated harshness as before, pulling in a slowed breath of air through his nostrils, slightly irritated at himself and his thoughts.

  
“A thief expecting punishment would usually fight it. But my men seem to have had no trouble keeping you here… How come?”

"..."

No reply.  
He could see the man’s, Niles’, mind scramble to find a proper reply; one that didn’t hurt too much. It shook through him as it had done before, like waves of electricity.

Leo stared.

"Answer me.”

Niles swallowed. One could tell by the sound alone that his eyes were welling up against his will.   
The blood on his collar stuck against his neck as he moved.

Stammering, he readjusted himself to a slightly straighter, more upright position to address him:

“Do you like watching grown men cry, Prince?"

It wasn’t even accusatory.

Leo didn’t recall giving the thief permission to ask, but said nothing. In reply he received a strange smile that quickly grew to a short-lived laugh masking a sob.

Restless unease had him by its grip.

"Then let us trade: my tears and my life for a final chance at peace.

I have nothing left but that."

Without breaking his stare, a growing uncertainty led Leos hand to pick at his own sleeve. Carrying an uncomfortable tinge of worry in his tone that he hadn’t quite intended to slip loose he felt the texture of the silken fabric run under his nails: 

  
“… I’m afraid I don’t quite follow.”

It seemed as if any and all of Niles’ attempts at regaining control over himself all bent and crumbled under his increasing inability to contain the weight of his feelings.

Eventually he gave in.

Leo could hear his mouth picking up the tears.

Niles wasn’t even bothering wiping them away anymore, in a manner that felt wholly broken and strange – lifting his neck and leading his hand a short way forward until it met Leo’s boot. Stabilizing himself further by placing his palm and holding onto it, he leaned unevenly to one side, trespassing into Leo’s personal sphere before looking directly up at him, seated at his knees as he purposefully locked sights with the prince.

Two of the nearest guards picked up on it, holding a little firmer onto their weapons.

It was Leo’s turn to feel uneasy now.

Niles was still below him, but the new position forced a closeness he wasn’t used to with strangers, or anyone else for that matter. Yet he remained still, pridefully refusing to show his nervousness with the situation, biding for an answer he couldn’t quite explain why he needed. Father would probably think him stupid for not having killed this man already. There clearly was no point in this - he clearly didn't know anything. Clearly this should stop.  
With his hand clawed tighter around the polished leather Niles looked as if he had been locked in prayer. His raspy breathing ebbed briefly to give way for his words, but his voice still budged and broke as he scrambled to produce them.

Leo caught himself subconsciously having reached down to comfort him.

Realisation ran cold down his back. It wasn’t on purpose.

A shaky voice at about half the strength it had earlier was all that Niles seemed to muster.

" _... Kill me."_

There was a pause of mutual silence after he spoke.

Although quiet, it still tore through his throat. Leo could tell Niles wasn't proud of it. He choked a bit on another sob, and blinked some of the tears out of his eye.

Both of them were staring at each-other with a strange mix of query and gloom. For the first time Leo saw how deep and wide the fear in Niles’ dark blue eye went, and how distant a travel his lonesome pupil seemed to perceive – miles and miles away from what was current and present, framed by the sore redness on his lower lid, like the shadowy gate to another world. "The thousand-yard stare"… He had heard about it before, but never seen it up close. From here it almost looked like a curse.

The hand Niles wasn’t keeping on Leo’s shoe was raised, hovering hesitantly near him; Leo could feel its wavering presence even if it hadn't touched. Niles was examining the prince's eyes as the prince was examining his, but the bruise around his eye was clearly making his vision blurry and jittery compared to Leo's. Nonetheless he seemed insistent on maintaining his part of the exchange.

“What I'm trying to say is that, that they... If I go to prison- or if I go back outside...”

Niles swallowed again.

“It's... It's the same. To me. What they’ll do to me. So, please...”

Leo stood quietly, observing from above as the man broke before his feet.

How perverse it felt.

For a good thirty seconds he merely listened to the cries, barely breaking eye-contact. Eventually they subsided, slowly fading into a state where tears still sprung but no sounds were made. Eventually, their accompanying glances changed.

There was a sharpness to them.  
Inquisitive, and wild.

Niles shook. Shifted his weight and rose.

And reached.

  
The thoughts went out of Leo –  
With a turn, he found Niles’ hand latched onto the bottom of his blouse in a horrifyingly firm grip, pulling him downwards and staining the cream white silk – the guards drawing their weapons – rushing – tearing Leo away before  
-

“ **Stand back**!”

Leo’s chest was pounding. Sounds of chain mail clattered in reply, pulling away from the prince hastily, as if he could burn them through displeasure alone. Everything spun in him. Disoriented, he aggressively helped himself out of their hands faster than they let go, away from their grasp, hissing and snapping at them as soon as he was loose:

“It’s a _battered_ **_unarmed_** thief with _one_ eye – Exactly **_how_** incompetent do you think I am?!”

The guards shuffled, a few of them muttering their quiet apologies.

He forced himself into taking deeper breaths – to fix the frightened look his eyes were surely carrying – to fix his shaking tone and youthful anger. This was bad. This wasn’t who he wanted to be. This wasn’t who he was meant to be. Niles was on the floor, slumped back into a strange position as if the guards had tossed him there, winded. His sharp inhalations moved his hair to the beat whenever he gasped. The sound felt scathing to Leo's conscience.

“… He can’t hurt me unless I let him.”

If he hadn’t stopped them they would have killed him – and considering their job, they would have been right in doing so. He should have- well, Leo weren’t quite sure _what_ he should have done, but certainly not this - certainly not sympathising with a thief. Addressing the guards in a calmer tone helped de-escalate the situation- helped reasserting his power- though he knew that they probably had their thoughts on his entitled behaviour. Like a spoiled child, unwilling to admit his flaws.

He turned his attention back to Niles, but let him lie as he had laid. He straightened his back to appear even taller than before, distancing himself through his posture. Niles noticed, and gave him a mangled smile.

It crawled up to his eye like poison.

“You can hurt me. I’ll let you.”

Leo frowned at the notion and Niles’ smile spread to a grin. _What a fool. What an absolute total utter idiot he was – and this ‘thief’ and the guardsmen, too. None of this was worth grinning at._ The redness on Niles’ nose had sprung open again, sinking between his teeth.

“You can have what fun you want. You can take my life whatever way you want… Just do me a favour and let it end.”

Unsure how to react at his own discomfort, Leo took a step back. It was hard not to yell, but he managed quench it. Still, it came out stronger and harsher than he’d thought:

“I have no mercy towards those whose livelihood threatens my family. Granting your wish blindly would oppose that. It simply wouldn’t be a proper punishment.”

He could feel himself heaving with unspent irritation. Leo traced the stain on his shirt tensely.

_Composure. Calm._

_Control._

_…_

_Deep breaths._

The air was riddled with crackles of fire.

Niles’ expression vent vacant and numb.

“But, since you offered it so kindly…”

Leo rubbed the fabric between two fingers, looking at it. None of them moved.

“I _will_ take your life.

… As my retainer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--  
> (edit-whatever: edits. many of them, and big ones. think it's slightly better now - sorry)  
> (Edit 1: finally had time to finish+edit this. hope it's decent)
> 
> (Hey! Thanks for reading my silly attempt at telling a story.  
> The first chapter was intended as more of a "chapter 0", but I couldn't make that work on Ao3.  
> The next chapter will begin from Niles' PoV. Expect it to be quite a bit longer, and... Snarkier. As this fic is primarily about exploring trauma's effects on interpersonal relations, there will be discussion of abuse and abnormal family dynamics mentioned in canon: be warned.  
> Thanks again! Take care!)


	2. Niceties and normalcies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niles has been given a new lease on life - whether he wants it or not.  
> With no energy to fight against it just yet, Niles decides to go with it for the time being; meeting the inhabitants of castle Krakenburg and getting acquainted with its architecture while pondering his options.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Probably gonna upload this chapter in chunks because... It Is Hefty'erere than I thought it would be, and my life is messy'ererer than I'd wish it would be. welp. Anyway: Here is Chunk Number One; Getting Ready for Fun. enjoy (i hope).)

**2**

-Niceties and normalcies-

\---

He couldn’t stand it.

He couldn’t stand the perfumed bath salts, the plush new clothes he had been given, or the way he felt so warm and sheltered by the walls.

For a moment he’d considered making an improvised noose out of the bedsheets while the servants were away, but the weight of everything that had happened in the past 48 hours had pulled him into a deep and unfamiliar sleep, with surprisingly little thoughts.

He woke up the same as ever though;

The only difference being a lithe maid pluckily wishing him “good morning!” as he felt the blankets sticking to his skin, and his mind crawling back from the past.

Same as ever, though.

… Gods, his fucking ribs hurt. Wasn’t there some sort of rule against people like him being put in places like this? At the very least, Niles felt like there _should_ be, like this should all count as some sort of animal abuse, considering how the wealthy thought of the poor. Or maybe some sort of “unorthodox blasphemy towards the crown”, or something. It didn’t feel right.

What sort of bullshit prince decided to take in strays anyway?

… Should have bit that princely little knee when he had the chance, maybe _then_ those clattering rust-buckets would have vivisected him with their fancy metal weapons like they were meant to. It wasn’t meant to go like-… Well, like whatever this was. So much for having work partners, and companions, and _friends_ , that you _knew,_ that had your back, and wouldn’t collectively push you to the floor and kick you ‘til you bled and couldn’t get back up.

Fuckheads.

…

The dust motes swayed in the light from the window.

Niles stared into the air, seated up against a foreignly soft pillow.

It hurt.

…

_'Poor, poor little Niles! So sad, and so filthy and oh so alone!’_

_Stupid._

Who cared, right?

He'd probably deserved it…

He probably had for a while.

The maid who had greeted him a few minutes prior was busy emptying and filling the intricately carved dresser in the other end of the room with fresh undergarments and socks, some of which she had stacked on the ottoman beside her. The dresser alone was probably worth more than Niles had ever owned in his life. She had a little cart with her, holding what Niles assumed the people here considered the most basic tools of her trade: feather dusters, little bottles with labels he couldn’t read, a dust tray… While his eye was off of her she closed the top drawer with a ‘ksssh- _thump’_ and set on to steer the cart away, smiling at him on her way out.

_Odd._

He didn’t really like it when they smiled, to be honest. It made him want to prove that he was nothing to smile about, even if they only did so out of courtesy. … Maybe he could break a little of the royal family’s preciously luxurious room furnishings before-

Oh, great _; another_ maid _. Wonderful._ They all wore surprisingly fancy clothes, he’d noticed, with the men in coattails and the women in feathered dresses – short and tight in all the right places. Bet some horny room of nobles had decided on that, but Niles wasn’t exactly in the mood.

The maid walked up to him and curtsied.

“Lord Leo awaits you in the mess hall. He has a meal saved for you and wishes for you to accompany him soon.”

“Oh, and I see he sent me a morning courtesan too? How _very_ generous of him!”

The maid’s mouth turned to a stiff, thin line. With furrowed brows she took a decisive turn before walking out of the room in barely concealed disgust.

\--

Thankfully the seemingly never-ending flow of maids and butlers had let him be after that. He wasn’t quite sure what he would have done if they had tried to dress him again today - nor undress. Though still drained of energy, he had managed to spot a small group of servants headed to the kitchen, letting him trog along, silently, to the mess hall.

And there, at the end of an otherwise empty table, sat the blonde-haired prince from yesterday. In daylight his brown eyes wore a soft tint of red.

“Oh, - "

Niles caught him just about to bite into a forkful of eggs, which he awkwardly put back down.

"Good morning.”

“Morning.”

No enthusiasm. They weren’t friends.

The prince moved his glass from one side of him to the other and hurriedly brushed the crumbs off the square piece of cloth on his lap, as if the bread would be a detriment to the conversation. As his embarrassment cleared, his voice took on the same sharpness as yesterday night, although this time in a much less standoffish manner. “Good to see you present. Sit down, please. Take some food.”

Doing as he was told, Niles manoeuvred his legs over the bench seat and sat down next to him, aligned with the unused cutlery that had been laid ready for his arrival. He was immediately poured a cup of water he hadn’t asked for, but nonetheless accepted in his morning haze, along with a clean plate and a bowl. Several small arrangements of food were positioned in front of them, like a private buffet of considerable size. Unfortunately, it all smelled incredible, despite Niles' distaste for the situation.

Silverware and polished floors. How in the world had he ended up here; Next to people like this.

“…”

 _‘_ Leo’ was his name. _Prince_ Leo. Youngest of Nohr. A skilled practitioner of dark magic, descended from the dusk dragon itself. 'Hard' and 'ruthless' in his ways, apparently, were the rumours to be believed. His slender hand guided a tong, plucking a scone from a small pyramid of them. The butler preparing Niles' bath last night had told him so much about him, that Niles had given up on listening to it all. Not like he could focus much with an unknown man washing his hair in the first place. Despite their differences in rank, Niles was of the assumption that Leo remembered his name as he did Leo's, though. Whatever that was supposed to make him feel.

Leo put the scone on his plate and picked up his fork, eating it with the trained elegance of the rich.

“Judging by your face it seems as if the healers did their job?”

Numb and tired, Niles ran his fingertips across his face, trying to recall where the bruising was.

“Yes. It’s a bit sore, and my chest hurts. But that’s it.”

An understatement; although he _did_ feel a lot better on his face.

“My apologies. Our best clerics are out of town at the moment, bolstering the war effort. It might be a few days before it subsides.”

Why the prince bothered apologising for something as minor as this was beyond Niles; Albeit annoying, his present level of pain seemed perfectly bearable to him, and far preferable to what had preceded it. Sure beat the treatment he'd received all of the other times he had been to a pulp, too.

From the array of food the prince procured a small bowl of porcelain. Lifting the lid, he put a silver spoon in its contents – an orange marmalade it seemed – and spread it on the bottom piece of the scone, taking a bite. For some reason he seemed to find it necessary to cover his mouth with a delicate hand while he chewed, looking away. Perhaps he didn't like being seen eating. That alone made Niles want to stare even more.

Wiping his mouth but continuing to cover it, he gave Niles a flighty look from the corner of his eyes.

"Sea-buckthorn and clementines."

_Uh._

"I... See."

Niles weren’t quite sure what most of these breakfast dishes even were. Or buckthorn, for that matter.

Taking another bite, Leo gently plopped a sugar cube and a clean spoon into his tea, stirring lazy little circles to observe the rings it made in an obvious attempt at filling the massive gaps in their ‘conversation’ with something else. Nohr was far too cold for tea, so it must have been imported from one of the occupied countries. In the end, Niles stuck to some porridge. _That_ , at least, he knew.

From the bowl a wave of warmth seeped into his fingers as he wrapped them around the painted ceramic.

It calmed him.

-


End file.
